


it's my move, fight or flight

by tsaritsas



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, and instead this happened, i tried to write smth w a plot, idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsaritsas/pseuds/tsaritsas
Summary: Zoya and Nikolai study for an exam over a few days.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	it's my move, fight or flight

“And why, exactly, do you want  _ me _ to study for this final with  _ you _ ?” 

“Because Nazyalensky,” Nikolai smirked, spinning before he fell back onto the grey couch cushions, “you’re the smartest one in our class besides me, of course. And yet I still feel as if I am going to fail this final.”

Zoya tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned away from him, setting her books down on the coffee table. “What makes you think I can do any better on this final than you?” She gave him a look up and down: blond hair slightly tousled, a mischievous glint in bright hazel eyes, arrogant expression across his annoyingly flawless features. 

“Tsaritsa, please give yourself some props.” He laid back on the couch, hands behind his head, legs stretched out to take up all of the space. “I may know the material, but you’re the only that comprehends any of what Morozova spews during lectures and to not fail this class, I need that knowledge.” His eyes flicked over to her for a brief moment before returning to the ceiling. 

She allowed the ice forming around her heart to settle in. 

“Can it, Lantsov,” she walked over to him, poking his chest. “And if you want my help,” she chided, “no more calling me ‘tsaritsa’.” Zoya left him and went to her kitchen, determined to ignore for at least some time before they had to study. 

“As you wish, darling.”

She whipped her head around to see him smiling, hazel eyes still full of mischief. “I said,” she warned, though she blushed, “to  _ can it _ !” 

This was going to be one hell of a week. 

–––––

About two hours in was when Nikolai realised how truly beautiful she was. 

She had invited him to come at four. Now it was only 6:15, and he thought up the list of things he liked about Zoya: she liked her coffee with milk, no sugar; she wrote titles in black ink and information in blue when she took notes; her eyes calculated the room when she was thinking something over; she held her chin with her hand and tapped a finger on her jaw when she was trying to remember something. 

He could no longer think with her in front of him. Her blue eyes matched the night sky outside, just after the sun had set. The moonlight from the window caught her features like magic, bringing a silver outline to the thick lashes that fanned over the light brown of her cheeks, the curve of her full lips, the glossy black of her waving hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She kept reaching up, pen in hand, to push back her glasses that repeatedly fell from the small bump on the bridge of her nose. She was so smart too, even her insults towards him were clever. 

“Lantsov,” he heard, “did you hear my question?”

Saints, she was going to ruin him. And she would have no idea at all.

“Lantsov!” Someone shouted as he saw hands clap in front of his eyes, attention snapping back to reality. He saw Zoya again, back in the actual room and not just his thoughts.

He propped his elbow on the table, placing his chin in his hand as his eyes drifted from her to his notebook and back. “Yes, dear?” 

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don't dear me, I was asking about the structure of actin filaments,” she said, her tone unsure. 

His eyes flicked to his notes. “Double helix, love,” he told her nonchalantly.

“Good,” she exhaled as she closed her textbook. “I think that’s enough now.” Crossing her arms, she stood up and nodded toward his book bag next to the chair. 

Nikolai looked up to meet her blue eyes. “Lovely spending time with you, tsaritsa.”

“You can leave now.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. 

“Dear, our night has only just begun.” 

She marched up to him, looking like she was getting ready to pull a punch, though he didn't think she could do that much damage considering she only reached his chin. “Our night?” 

“Of course, do you think I would not take you out to dinner after this?” He grinned at her, earning a scowl in return. “It won’t be anything too personal, just dinner and dessert and banter. Maybe afterwards you will not have such disdain for my presence.” 

“Good luck with that,” she scoffed. She walked away from him and, to his surprise, reached for her black parka, shrugging it over her shoulders. 

“Tsaritsa, where are you going?” 

She rolled her eyes once more, wrapping a light blue scarf around her shoulders. It complemented her eyes in a way that made his heart clench. “I never said I wasn’t hungry.” 

“Well, lucky for you,” he laughed, “I’m paying, so you can eat as much as you want.” 

She turned the door handle, sighing with relief. “Good.” 

“I’m always glad to, tsaritsa.” He took the door from her, holding it open for her to walk through. “Good to go?” 

Her sharp blue eyes trained a glare on him once more as she pursed her lips, making his heart do somersaults in his chest. “This better be good food, or you’re going to owe me.” 

–––––

He took her to a hole-in-the-wall a few blocks away, the door painted a dark maroon. “Where did you take me?” She questioned.

“Just go inside dear,” he was smirking again. “I promise, you’ll love it. It’s my favourite.” His hazel eyes were bright as always, as though he was always planning. Planning what, she didn’t care to know.

“You better not have brought me to someplace weird.” 

“Have a little faith,” he said, “and the faster you go inside, the faster you get food. 

“I hate you.” She told him, her tone and expression deadpan. 

“You won’t soon enough.” He mused, tilting his head to the side, arrogant smirk still on his face.

She crossed her arms and whipped her head to look at him. “That’s quite a bold statement to make.” 

“And you will see,” he pushed open the door, “that I’m right.”

Her eyes widened as she stepped into a dimly lit room, the walls painted a deep crimson with golden silhouettes of flowers. Instead of normal lighting, the ceilings hung with lanterns, the design of a sun carved out to let the light shine through. She turned around to find the entrance was surrounded with a border of its own, intricate designs carved in the wood. 

Nikolai took her hand and led her to a booth near the window, looking quite satisfied while she took in the mesmerising surroundings. She heard him ask from in front of her, “Happy, Nazyalensky-” 

“Mhm.” She nodded. He may only be a friend, but at least he was a good one. “Happy.”

He grabbed her hand and led her to a table with two red cushions. They sat down and made small talk for a bit about finals and clubs they were in. They complained about Morozova's nuisance of a class after the food came, and commented on his remarks of giving tests with

no advanced notice. 

“I swear,” Zoya told Nikolai before shoving a piece of chicken in her mouth, “I'm gonna strangle him.” 

He nodded in agreement. “After the final.” 

She high fived him. “Good plan.” 

After they finished and he paid the check, they walked along the streets of the city in the direction of her apartment. Now that she was fed and could think, Zoya realised she was actually beginning to like him. Her heart had started doing one of those stupid palpitation things when he smiled or got excited about something, and whenever his eyes lit up and the gold around the centre started to glow she would immediately want to go to him. 

He was cute, she realised.

Saints, he was  _ so _ cute. 

She hated it. She hated  _ him _ . And most of all, she hated how easily he had managed to change her opinion of him and his stupid perfect blond hair. She was done with him after the final. He would not mess with her head anymore after that and she would make sure of it. 

But right now she needed to figure out what someone else's coat was doing around her. Especially since she was already wearing her own. “Nikolai,” she interrogated, realizing as she looked next to her that he was just in a sweater. “What is your jacket doing on me?” 

He shrugged. “You looked cold, tsaritsa.” 

“I'm fine,” she told him, pulling his jacket tighter around her anyway, “why would you think I'm cold?” Maybe she was shivering and couldn't feel her fingertips, but she would survive. 

“Love,” his eyes trained on her suddenly, a line of worry coming between his eyebrows, “your lips are purple.” 

“Why are you looking at my lips?” 

“I'm hailing us a cab.” He raised a hand. 

She crossed her arms, half out of annoyance and half out of the need for warmth. “I'm not going alone in a cab at night.” 

“Of course not, I'm coming with you.” 

_ “Excuse me?”  _

He smirked. “Well, my things are still there. And you honestly didn't think I was just going to let you keep that coat. I need it too. And it was expensive.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him as a cab pulled up to the curb in front of them. “You get your shit. You leave. Got it?” She poked his chest, clutching both the jackets tight around her. 

He laughed as he opened the cab door for her. “Wouldn't dream of anything else.” 

–––––

He showed up the next day at her apartment, beaming. 

The door opened for him to find a tired Zoya, her hand coming up behind her glasses to rub her eye. She was in a blue hoodie and grey joggers and blue fuzzy socks, her dark hair frizzy as if…

“You just woke up,” he asked, “didn’t you?” 

She looked up at him, eyes half-lidded but still glaring. “Why do you care?” 

“Dear, I can come back later if you want,” he offered. 

“No no, don’t,” she told him, her voice still scratchy from getting out of bed. “I don’t want to have to deal with more of you than I have to.” 

So she  _ still _ hated him. Great.

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door. 

“Well,” he told her, “I want to study, but if you wish to do something else, I would not be opposed.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” was all she said in return. 

He replied, smirking. “I'll make note of that.”

“Just come in,” she told him, rubbing her cheek, “so we can just get this over with.” She let the door swing open so he could come inside. 

Even dead tired, she still looked gorgeous. Her cheeks still looked a bit puffy, as well as her lips, and her messy hair was unnervingly attractive to him. Everything about her made him want to cup her face in his hands and place a light kiss on her nose before letting her fall asleep in his arms again.

They set their notebooks down on her coffee table once more, going through the basic terms once before studying in silence, this time more comfortable than the last. He was starting to get used to the fact that Zoya wasn’t the type for conversation, that she preferred to work in silence when she could concentrate. But he felt a need to check on her anyway, so fifteen minutes later he went to ask a question about something he already knew, just for an excuse to talk. 

“Tsaritsa–” he went to say, before realising her face had crashed into her notebook and she was, in fact, asleep. 

Nikolai smiled at her, though he knew she wouldn’t see it. He got up and lifted her so that she lay across the couch now, making sure her head was cushioned by a fluffy grey pillow. After grabbing a blanket off the armrest and placing it over her, making sure she was comfortable, he packed up his things. He placed a light kiss on her forehead and she stirred, one of her hands lazily resting on his forearm. He reluctantly shoved it away.

“You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”

He left a note for her saying he would come back tomorrow, and five dollars for coffee so she could wake up. 

–––––

He had come over every day since their first time studying. It wasn’t that she wanted him to leave her alone; she quite liked having him around. They were fast friends, and somehow their friendship only kept moving faster. She had gotten to know him very well over the past few days, talking about their families and such, more of what they were studying. 

But she knew better to get truly attached to him and his charm because he would let her down eventually. Just like they always did. And the sweet gestures he kept making weren’t helping to quell her feelings either. Most guys she had normally assumed what she wanted: clothes, jewellery, and the likes, but none had ever cared to leave her money for things she actually wanted. Like coffee. No guy had ever bothered to leave her coffee money. 

She felt her heart sink as she heard a knock come from her door that night. 

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door. He showed up in a grey sweater and blue jeans, signature smirk still on his face, hazel eyes still teasing her. 

He set down two to-go cups on her coffee table. “I also bought hot chocolate from the cafe you told me about last night.” 

Zoya felt the blood start to rush toward her cheeks, quickly turning to face away from him. “You remembered?” 

“Why would I not?” 

She chuckled. “It’s just a small detail.”

He sat down on her couch again, once again taking up all the room so he could stretch his legs. “Only for you, tsaritsa.” 

“I said not to call me that,” she reminded him. 

He propped his head on his hand, tilting it just the slightest bit so his golden hair caught in the sunlight. He was just trying to torture her, wasn’t he? With his stupid sweet gestures and the buying her food and his stupid perfect hair and gorgeous hazel eyes–

No. She couldn’t think of him like that. 

“Admit it, tsaritsa,” he said to her, “you find my quips adorable.”

She ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes. “No part of you is adorable, I promise.” 

She expected another witty remark in return, some arrogant response. But when she looked towards, she saw that he was silent, eyes focused directly on her as a piece of black hair fell into her face. Oh, he was not pulling this with her. 

“Nikolai,” she warned, walking over to him, “don’t pull this shit with me. I can tell when people are making fun of me, and I do not take kindly to it I assure you.” 

He blinked rapidly before smirking again. “I would never make fun of you, dear, I promise.” He stretched his legs across her couch again. Great. He was making himself at home as well as driving her mad. 

Because his being annoying was definitely the  _ only _ reason why he was driving her mad. 

“Just get started so we can study and you can go home.” She playfully pushed his chest. 

“As you wish, dear.”

They spent a good hour reviewing in silence, with Nikolai occasionally looking up from his notes to ask her a question. As of now, they had a good routine in place: only talk when necessary, let Zoya drink her coffee. And it would all be perfectly fine. 

“Tsaritsa?” He suddenly piped up from beside her. 

“What?” She asked him, making sure to not look up from her notes. 

“Get up.” 

Her attention left her notes as she lifted her eyes to glare at him, but smiled anyway. “And why should I do that?” 

“Because,” he stood up, “my brain is fried from all the membrane proteins I’ve had to memorise. And I think we should dance.”

Oh no. 

“You’re insane,” she laughed. “The exam is in half a week.”

He pressed play on his phone before setting it down on the table, a song she didn’t know beginning to blare from the speakers. “And yet,” he mused, gaze glossed over her, “I still can’t concentrate.” 

Nikolai grabbed her hand and pulled her from her seat, catching her in his arms a split second later. When Zoya looked up, she realised she was flush against him, meeting his eyes as he looked down. One of his hands held hers, the warmth of his touch causing her thoughts to blur, and the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her close as her heart started to beat faster. Her eyes flicked to the stars through the window, though she knew they wouldn’t guide her. She needed a way to stay sane. She thought of her work–yes, bio–and what they were supposed to be doing. Studying, right. They were just taking a break? They had done a lot of work, after all. Looking at notes for an hour straight did fry your brain, now that she thought about it. 

Getting lost in this wouldn’t be so bad now, would it? It was just a dance. They were friends. People did it all the time platonically. She heard the song playing softly as her cheek fell against his shoulder. 

_ We were barely 18 when we crossed collective hearts _

_ It was cold, but it got warm when you barely crossed my eye _

_ And then you turned, put out your hand _

_ And you asked me to dance _

A few minutes later she woke up. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. She wouldn’t let herself. Not when she lifted her head and met his gaze, the gold around the centre of his eye almost entirely swallowed by his pupil save for a thin, bright outline that faded into the dark brown of coffee. Not when his hand went to cup her chin and her eyelids flickered against her cheek. Not when her lips met his halfway, and it took almost all of her to pull away. 

_ I knew nothing of romance _

“Nikolai–” she protested. She had a life to live, things to do. She would not give in. Not now. Not ever. Not with him. But he still had her in his arms, his breath still ghosting her lips.

_ But it was love at second sight _

“Tomorrow.” 

Then he was kissing her again, and Zoya lost herself to the sweet, sweet delirium that came with lips soft on hers. One of his hands tangled in her hair, causing any thoughts she still had to dissolve until all she knew was the way his hands caused all of her to go warm as he held her, the way he tasted of cinnamon and cardamom when his lips opened for her. She felt her arms come around his neck, bringing him to her so she could deepen the kiss, and he picked her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, determined to be as close to him as possible. She broke away for just a moment, so she could look into his eyes to see a fire burning in them that wasn’t there before. She ran a finger along his cheekbone while his lashes fluttered shut, one of her hands cupping his cheek while the other ran through his silky golden curls. Their lips crashed together once more, causing her to melt with each passing second. They fell on the couch, tangled in each other until they were both breathless from the kisses. Until they knew nothing except the other person, who in turn only knew them, and the comfort with each other that eventually brought them sleep.

–––––

For once, Zoya didn’t look frustrated. As if all of her stress had left her. 

Nikolai awakened to find she had fallen asleep against his chest, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. She had one hand laid on his collarbone, slightly scrunching his shirt fabric. He didn't know what time it was, but her eyes were still fluttering with dreams, and he did not wish to disturb her. He lifted a hand to reach for his phone, however, he was met with resistance as he saw tired blue eyes look up at him. 

Saints, he was done for. 

She had her usual look of worry on her face again, the dark circles under her eyes still prominent. But for once, there was no malice. Just worry. 

“Please don't go,” was all she asked before she fell asleep again. 

He knew it was the morning now. Another day, another life to get back to, another ten thousand tasks to finish. But right now, he was just a guy. And she was just the girl who he was hopelessly in love with. 

So he stayed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> eye bleach provided


End file.
